


it's time to exhale now

by sinjoong (undeliveredtruth)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Blow Jobs, Choking, Cock Warming, Comeplay, Double Oral Penetration, Drabble Collection, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Hints of corruption, Humiliation, Idols, Inappropriate use of plushies, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Orgasms, Other pairings and tags to be added, Phone Sex, Public Sex, Restraints, Seonghwa in a Skirt, Somnophilia, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeliveredtruth/pseuds/sinjoong
Summary: This is an outlet for drabbles, ficlets, and scenes from fics; some will be explicit, check each chapter tag/summary for details!11. sansang, E, pwp: phone sex, slight d/s dynamics12. jonggi, E, pwp: somnophilia, multiple orgasms, come play, soft and kind of slow
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Song Mingi, Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Choi San/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong, Jeong Yunho/Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 113
Kudos: 385





	1. yungi - talk with your body

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to this! I've decided it's absolutely unhealthy for me to turn every single little idea that strikes me into a 20k long fic, so I'm making this as an outlet for small drabbles, fics, or maybe scenes from longer fics that won't make it in there. Please enjoy! <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingi asks Yunho to tie him up, and Yunho can't help but admire the sight of Mingi under him.
> 
> (established relationship, body worship, soft yungi)

“Too tight?” Yunho drags a finger over the silk tie, crooking it under to feel the space between it and Mingi’s wrist.

 _“Ah._ No,” Mingi replies from under him. Yunho drags his gaze down from his crossed wrists, tied to the headboard with the black tie, down the length of Mingi’s outstretched arms, the slightest bend at his elbow. It can’t be comfortable, but the way Mingi _begged him_ to tie him up…

Being comfortable is not the point. Mingi’s lidded eyes trace every minute movement of Yunho’s hands, even to where he can’t see, head tipped back. Yunho drags a knuckle over his cheek, down his jaw, over the fading marks on Mingi’s collarbones, visible through the two undone buttons of his shirt. “Yunho…”

“Mmm?”

_“Please.”_

Yunho thumbs at his collar, Mingi’s hard-on visible through his blue jeans; Yunho scoots down to rest further down on Mingi’s thighs, take him in better. Arms outstretched above his head, red lip bitten between his teeth, Mingi’s big eyes are _begging_ for Yunho to do something; Yunho's all too familiar with the desperation in his eyes.

Who is Yunho to deny him? His fingers rub up his sides and to the buttons of Mingi’s shirt, carefully pulling one undone. And one more, and another one, slowly revealing the toned planes of his chest and stomach. Until he reaches where Mingi’s shirt is tucked in his waistband. Mingi inhales a small breath when Yunho pulls it out, undoing the remaining buttons and letting the shirt pool around his waist and on the bed.

Mingi is _beautiful._ Yunho never fails to tell it to Mingi every time he thinks it; he says it so many times it’s probably lost some of the effect. Nowadays, Mingi just rolls his eyes when he hears the compliment; Yunho has to tilt his chin and pull Mingi’s eyes to him and say it again and again. He’s beautiful on the inside and outside, all softness and hard lines, cuteness and pure sexiness in one little package.

Well, maybe not so little. Yunho drags the bridge of his palm over the erection in Mingi’s pants, listening to the sweet sound of Mingi’s surprised whimper. “Please, _Yunho, baby…”_

He’s delicious, all exposed and open just for Yunho.

His hands attach themselves to the waistband of Mingi’s jeans, resting over the dark material. Slowly, oh so slowly, his hands move up, over the long lines of Mingi’s stomach, splaying over the soft skin marred by yet more fading, yellow marks. Over his hipbones, down his v-line, thumbing at the happy trail leading down into his jeans. Mingi twitches when Yunho’s hand brushes over his cock by accident, jostling Yunho on his thighs.

Yunho spreads his fingers over his stomach once again, amazed at how _small_ it looks under him, under his hands. How Mingi looks under him, shaking his head to remind himself it's real. Yunho brushes his hands over his waist, up his sides, soft touches over his ribcage where he knows it tickles. Instead of the laughter that he usually draws with his fingers on Mingi’s sides, he hears Mingi’s breath quicken.

He’s so patient, letting Yunho explore as much as he wants. His hands look ridiculously big on his waist, or maybe Mingi’s waist is just ridiculously small. His body is ridiculous in general, tall, gorgeous, incredible; Yunho doesn’t appreciate the underlying meanings behind the word perfect, but that’s what Mingi is to him.

Under him, hands tied so he can’t do anything, Mingi’s eyes are trusting and loving; Yunho can’t help but bend down to kiss him, a soft press of lips, a whispered _I love you_ on his parted mouth. Mingi bites his bottom lip in between his teeth and whispers an equally affectionate _I love you too_ , the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. When he pulls up, Yunho runs his fingers over the hard muscles of his chest, thumbing at his nipples, biting his lip at the harsh inhale of breath Mingi takes in that erases the cocky smirk from his face.

Drawing his hands back down, he hears the moan of anticipation rumbling low in Mingi’s chest, but he can’t help but tease a tad more, rubbing his hands all over Mingi’s pretty stomach, his small waist. The contrast between them, his hands wrapping around Mingi’s waist, has always gotten Yunho’s heart racing. When he fucks into Mingi from behind, using the grip on his hips as leverage, when Mingi rides him, when _Yunho_ rides him and he splays his hands over him just like so.

Well, now maybe Yunho’s the slightest bit turned on too. Eyes fixed on Mingi’s, he trails his hands down to the button on Mingi’s jeans, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Please,” Mingi begs, once more, sweet as honey falling from his lips. Yunho undoes the button, drags the zipper down, and gets up just to peel Mingi’s jeans from his legs, his underwear following right after.

And _god_ he’s a sight, legs splayed open in Yunho’s bed, hands tied to the headboard balled into fists, hard cock resting against his stomach. Needy, pliant, fucking _gorgeous._ Yunho attaches his hands to his calves and crawls onto the bed, smoothing them down his inner thighs, his hips, just not where Mingi needs him most. He twitches under Yunho, legs opening even further to let Yunho kneel between his thighs.

“Touch me, please, Yunho, come on…” he breathes, voice low, catching on a moan as Yunho finally grabs him in his hand, thumbing at the head of his cock. He’s so sensitive, twitching just from Yunho’s smallest touches, his other hand thumbing at his hip; Yunho might seriously come in his pants if Mingi looks like this, head thrown back and gasping as Yunho slides his hand over him.

He moves instinctually, really, scoots down onto the bed until he’s on his stomach, tongue dragging on the underside of Mingi’s cock. Mingi shudders under him, a surprised moan ringing loud in the room; Yunho looks up right as his tongue swirls over the head and finds Mingi’s mouth open in surprise, big eyes on Yunho. Yunho holds his gaze as he sinks down, down; well, maybe not too much because Mingi is _big_ and Yunho isn’t too good at this, but… he’s learned how to make it good for Mingi, move his hand alongside his mouth, swirl his tongue on him, pull off to mouth down to the base and back up.

“Yunho… Yunho, oh my _god_ …” Mingi’s moans ring loud in the small room; Yunho would shut him up, but they’re alone, so instead he just bobs his head harder, tightens his cheeks, makes it good for him. When he looks up, he sees how Mingi’s hands are balled into fists, straining against the material of the tie, and he wants to feel them in his hair instead, holding him... but that’s fine. Mingi’s eyes are fixed on him, strings of _ohmygods_ falling like prayers from his mouth.

He smiles unthinkingly, lips turning up with Mingi’s cock still in his mouth, entirely too giddy at seeing how he can make Mingi unravel so easily, even after a few years. When Mingi tenses up, Yunho pulls back, sucking just the tip of Mingi’s cock in his mouth. “Yunho… I’m close, I, _fuck…”_

“I know,” Yunho pulls off, opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, jerking Mingi off with a quick hand. “Eyes on me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingi responds, bottom lip bitten so tightly in his mouth it _must hurt_. “Yeah,” he moans, lower, gasps as Yunho twists his hand one, two more times, lets out a cut-off, high-pitched groan, and comes all over Yunho’s face. Yunho holds Mingi’s thigh down with his free hand, and feels the come land on his cheek, on his tongue, on his lips, on his _eyelid,_ jerks Mingi off until he’s shuddering from it being _too much_.

Damn, that’s going to sting.

But seeing Mingi’s shellshocked face even with one eye as he comes down from his high, as he moves up to straddle his waist, uselessly wiping at his face and careful not to get his come into his eye… worth it, and more.

“Yunho…” Mingi says, shocked, mouth still open.

“What? Did I miss a spot?”

 _“Fuck.”_ Yunho bites his lip in his mouth with a smile, swiping his tongue out and over his lips. “Untie me, please.”

And well, that’s easier said than done. Yunho fumbles a little with the knots but eventually sets Mingi free, rubbing slowly at his wrists.

But just for two seconds, because after that Mingi’s hands press on his neck, thumbing at his jaw, and he’s pulled down into a hungry, _deep_ kiss. He moans in Mingi’s mouth, the motion rubbing Yunho’s hard cock against his stomach.

“Let me take care of you?” Mingi asks, staring him down. Yunho pulls back, looking into Mingi’s eyes, and nods.

In the briefest of moments, he’s suddenly on his back, Mingi’s hands pushing his shirt up his chest to kiss over his stomach. Yunho wraps his hands in his hair and throws his head back with a smile.


	2. yunsanhwa - x.o

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of constantly competing for rich client Yunho's attention, San and Seonghwa figure out it's much easier to just... team up and wreck him. 
> 
> (strippers!sanhwa, client!yunho; verbal dom seonghwa, seemingly innocent san, poor, poor yunho; face fucking, handjobs, elements of corruption)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for the word sl*t being used twice

“Ready?” Seonghwa asks San, running a hand through his hair to mess it up.

San just rolls his eyes at him, the _brat._ Seonghwa resists the urge to put him in his place because he’ll get to do that soon enough.

And so, he slithers into the dark room in the back of their club a second after San, closing the door after himself, smirk plastered on his face. He revels in the surprised expression on Yunho’s face; the man isn’t hard to rile up on an ordinary day, but tonight… he doesn’t know what’s coming for him.

“Uh… I didn’t…” he stumbles over his words, eyes wide even when his spread legs, arms resting on the back of the couch _scream_ dominance.

“We know,” Seonghwa steps up next to San, slithering a possessive hand around his waist. “Think of it like a promotional sale. Two for the price of one. You’re our loyal client, right?”

Yunho is left speechless; and well, that’s what Seonghwa was hoping for. He steps behind San instead, laying his head on San’s shoulder as his hands tease at the waistband of his black jeans. That’s how Yunho always likes them; dressed like it’s an ordinary day and he’s just coming home from work to find them, his pretty dolls, waiting for him. The dark red of the room contrasts nicely with the black walls, the black couch Yunho is sitting on, eyes fixed on San and him.

Seonghwa smirks, looking straight at him, kissing slowly up San’s neck. But he has no expectation of Yunho looking at him; he knows better. Yunho’s eyes are fixed to Seonghwa’s hands when they slowly work open the buttons of San’s shirt, from the top one, moving down excruciatingly slow. Like they talked about, San stays perfectly still, letting Seonghwa work all the buttons open and tug the silk shirt out of his pants.

He wishes he could see the expression on San’s face; he’s sure it is nothing but the picture of innocence, angelic blonde hair framing his pretty face just so. Yunho’s expression gives him away, tongue reaching out to wet his lips, mouth open and gaze unwavering from San’s chest. Seonghwa lets himself tease—hands smoothing down San’s chest, fingers teasing the outline of his abs, crooking under the waistband of his pants. Showing him off.

“Isn’t he such a pretty thing?” he chuckles, delighted at the automatic nod he gets from Yunho, the harsh swallow before his mouth drops back open in awe. He can’t take his eyes off of San; understandable, because who would?

Seonghwa places another little kiss on his naked shoulder, tugging the silk shirt off of his frame and letting it pool on the floor at their feet. San’s hands reach out to cover his chest. _Embarrassed_ , how cute; San is an actor and a half.

“Tut tut, baby, don’t get shy now,” Seonghwa chuckles, wrapping his arms around San’s wrists, tugging them off of his body and to his back. “Leave them there, okay?”

San nods; obeys like a good boy, so Seonghwa’s hands can reach back to his front, pop open the button of his pants and tug the zipper down one tooth at a time. Yunho’s eyes don’t stray for one second from the slow movements of Seonghwa’s hands on San; _whipped._ Seonghwa would almost find it pitiful if it wasn’t so _cute._

 _“Hyung—“_ San whines, high and pretty.

“Hmm. What do you want, baby?”

“Kiss me, hyung.”

“Mmm?”

 _“Please,”_ a breathy beg; Seonghwa turns San around 90 degrees and steps in front of him, so Yunho has a perfect side view of Seonghwa roughly grabbing San’s chin, lifting his eyes to his.

And leaning in into a kiss, slow and deep, his tongue breaching San’s mouth and San’s hands tugging desperately to the front of Seonghwa’s shirt.

In his ears, he registers a moan that he knows is not his nor San’s; he can’t help but smirk on San’s lips, pull away to tighten the grip on his chin and pull him back in for another wet, filthy kiss. To show off; any other time, San would already have Seonghwa on his knees, hand fisted in Seonghwa’s hair to try to get his control. But tonight?

Seonghwa calls the shots. And San looks so pretty, so _innocent_ looking up at him with those big, wide eyes when Seonghwa pulls away, fingers digging in his cheeks, that for a second he almost _believes_ it.

 _“Fuck,”_ a breathy whisper from the left breaks Seonghwa out of his thoughts and gets him back into his headspace. Seonghwa turns his head to the side, looking straight at Yunho; but once again, Yunho’s attention isn’t on him.

He gets why, when he feels San mouth at the collar of his shirt, up towards Seonghwa’s neck; Seonghwa immediately fists a hand in his hair and pulls San back from him with a forceful tug; San’s surprised, pained squeak is nothing but _delicious._

“Did I tell you you could touch me?” he demands, looking down into San’s eyes with feigned disgust.

“N—no.”

“Then?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” San whispers, barely audible to Yunho, he’s sure. But the sentiment gets across; it’s hard not to, when San looks like he’s one second away from dropping to his knees and begging for Seonghwa’s forgiveness. Ah, he _loves_ San.

Purely as coworkers, really; he almost lets out a laugh as he mouths over San’s chin, head still forcefully tipped back, and feels San’s hands reach out to press harshly on his hips. What a _brat._

“Careful,” he whispers in San’s ear, mouthing at the side Yunho can’t see. “Don’t want to spoil the fantasy.”

“H— _hyung…”_ San lets out a breathy, whiny moan, and Seonghwa pulls back, holding back another laugh.

“Do you want something, hmm? What do you want?”

“Want… want hyung to touch me.”

“Did you do anything to deserve it?” Seonghwa pushes San away. “Why don’t you show me what a good slut you are and maybe I’ll touch you.” And towards Yunho, watching as San stumbles and lands on his knees, a couple of meters away from Yunho’s spread legs.

Hands in his lap, knees tucked together, San is nothing but the picture of obedience. Seonghwa makes his way over to the other side of the couch, sitting down and watching as Yunho’s eyes fix on San, completely taken.

“Will you let him touch you, Yunho? Prove himself?”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, taken by the picture San makes. In any other circumstances, Seonghwa would be almost jealous of how Yunho cannot look away from San; the man’s hands on him are something Seonghwa quite looks forward to. But that’s fine; he can let San have it tonight. He’ll blow Yunho’s mind another time.

“Go closer, Sannie,” Seonghwa orders, watches as San shuffles across the floor, kneeling between Yunho’s legs this time. His hands reach out to touch Yunho’s inner thighs, greedily tugging open the button of his suit pants, and then the zipper. Seonghwa’s quite happy to see that Yunho’s most definitely hard in his tight black boxers already; what a sight. San tugs the boxers down his thighs as well, pulling Yunho’s cock out of them and tugging at it with one slow hand. He looks so tiny, so cute holding cock against his face with that expression; who wouldn’t want to ruin him?

And well, if there’s one thing San _surely_ does well, that’s sucking cock. He’s a little tease, sucking on the tip and looking up at Yunho for just a second, before he dives back down and takes him in just a little more. And a little more, and a little more, until he takes his hand away and Yunho is buried all the way into his throat. Yunho’s hands are balled into fists at his side, letting out a groan so loud Seonghwa chuckles.

“He looks so innocent, but he’s a little slut, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yunho nods, absentmindedly, hands fluttering open, closed.

“You can touch him.” At Seonghwa’s prompting, one of Yunho’s hands immediately buries itself in San’s hair, the other falling awkwardly on his shoulder. It’s endearing, to see how lost a rich playboy can get when played right. “Harder. Pull his hair.”

And again, Yunho does, moaning when San gags the littlest bit around the cock in his throat and pulls away, wrapping his hand around it to take just a second to breathe. He jerks Yunho off with his wrist twisting at the top, head on his tongue, before he dives in again just the littlest bit to bob his head up and down, hand twisting at the bottom.

Seonghwa feels the stirring in his stomach just seeing how eager San is with Yunho’s cock; that much is not a pretense. San lives to be stuffed full, to feel the weight of something on his tongue, inside of him in any way he can. And Yunho’s cock is the stuff of dreams; Seonghwa knows, because he’s _experienced_ _it_ in many ways.

When San dives back in to take Yunho all the way down his throat, Seonghwa hums. He wants to see San _ruined._

“Fuck his mouth,” he orders Yunho. “Hard. Don’t hold back, he can take it.”

Yunho whispers a litany of curses, but wraps his other hand in San’s hair nonetheless, holding San down with his cock buried down his throat. San doesn’t make the slightest noise of protest, nothing, as Yunho shoves him deeper and deeper, pulls him back just to thrust back in; uncontrolled, unabashed. Seonghwa licks his lips, biting his bottom one in his mouth as he sees the tears gathering in San’s eyes even in the low light of the room.

Yunho is doomed, the poor soul; when San gets like this, when tears fall from his pretty eyes as he’s getting toyed with, no mortal soul could ever resist him.

“I’m… I’m gonna come,” Yunho whispers, just once, just _once_ glancing towards Seonghwa. Seonghwa catches his eyes, bites his tongue between his teeth with a smirk.

“Come then.”

And two seconds after, he does—shoving San as deep onto him as he can; a tear falls down San’s cheek, eyes open and looking up right at Yunho.

So pretty. The prettiest, pulling off with his mouth open to show Yunho that he took it all—swallowed it all like a good boy, hand lazily tugging at Yunho’s softening cock.

“Ah… thank you,” Yunho whispers to him. _Adorable._

“Was he good?” Seonghwa asks, drumming his fingers on the back of the couch.

Yunho nods, once, twice, looking up at Seonghwa instead.

“Did he satisfy you?” And Yunho nods again. “Answer me,” Seonghwa orders.

“Y—yes. He was good.”

“Does he deserve to come?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Good then. Come here, Sannie,” Seonghwa pats the space between his legs, sideways on the couch. San obeys, coming to lean back against his chest, turned to face Yunho.

Seonghwa quickly tugs the black panties down, exposing San’s hard cock. Seonghwa’s not surprised; Yunho is just that good. “Do you see him, Yunho? Do you see how wet he got from just your cock in his mouth?”

Yunho doesn’t answer this time, probably too taken by the sight. Seonghwa doesn’t blame him; San looks like a satisfied kitten laying back against Seonghwa’s chest, Seonghwa’s hand tugging slowly at him. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t have to, the wet noises when he spits in his palm and grabs San’s cock back to tug at him say more than enough.

“I’m… close, hyung, so close, _please—“_ San begs, head thrown back against Seonghwa’s shoulder, fingers digging harsh marks in Seonghwa’s thigh. Seonghwa lets out just a bit of a harder breath, quickens his hand—

“Come, baby,” he whispers in San’s ear, sliding the palm of his hand over San’s slit right before he breaks, come landing all over his chest and Seonghwa’s hand. He lets out a long moan—and Yunho does too. Seonghwa couldn’t be less surprised; San is just that much of a sight, and Yunho, cock still out, gaping at the sight before him, looks nothing but powerless right now.

Seonghwa lets go of San; in a surprising display, San grabs his wrist and licks his own come off of Seonghwa’s hands. The sudden action, San’s tongue licking at his palm, sucking his fingers in his mouth, betrays a moan out of Seonghwa too.

Fuck, Seonghwa’s going to fuck him _so hard_ when they get back to their changing rooms he’s not going to remember his own name.

Before then, he helps dress San back up, watching as Yunho tugs himself back into his pants and drops an envelope on the couch. Seonghwa is the one to approach him.

“I didn’t know that it would be the both of you, I’m…”

“No worries, baby,” he smiles at Yunho, bending over to press a sweet, long kiss to his mouth. “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you next week?”

Yunho nods, dumbfounded, and Seonghwa turns back around, pressing the hand with the envelope to San’s lower back and leading him out of the room. And towards their changing room, more than glad when he opens the door and there’s nobody in there.

San turns to him with a self-satisfied smirk. “That was—“

Seonghwa drops the money envelope onto his table and grabs San’s neck harshly, to kiss the _air_ out of him.

When he pulls away, San’s smirk gets even bigger. The cat that got the cream. “Did you get excited?” he teases, with that sharp little tongue of his. Seonghwa grabs his hips to turn him around, throw him around to bend him over his own make-up vanity.

“Shut up,” he warns, bunching up San’s shirt up his back, pressing his chest down onto the clean table. San looks back at him with that smirk still planted on his face, tongue licking over his bottom lip, ass wriggling teasingly.

“Well… are you going to fuck me then?”

“Gladly.”


	3. hongsang - treasure island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang hangs out in Hongjoong's studio.
> 
> (canon verse, fluff, slice of life; sweet, sweet crushes)

It’s one of those days for Yeosang. Well, it’s not really one of those days _per se_ , more a combination of external factors and an unexpected break for the next few days that finds him in front of Hongjoong’s studio, hands full of home-run balls and chips, two cans of coke dragging down his sweater pocket.

He hesitates. For more than really needed, considering Hongjoong won’t probably hear him anyway. He lifts his hand, tries to knock, and then drops it back down. Eventually, he drops it and finds his phone in his pocket, sitting down with his back against the wall opposite of Hongjoong’s door. The snacks get forgotten at his feet.

_‘are u in your studio?’_

Hongjoong isn’t home, he isn’t with Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and San, he isn’t with Mingi either, so Yeosang figures he must be here. It’s a given 99% of the time he goes missing.

And yet, it’s probably the hardest thing Yeosang’s ever done, sending that text. That’s how it definitely feels in that moment. Harder than training, debuting, tours, comebacks, everything. He locks his phone, dropping it on his thigh. Maybe he’s too dramatic about this.

_’yeah.’_

_‘why?’_

Yeosang opens his phone and ponders his next texts.

_‘can i come hang out?’_

_‘i’m in front’_

Next thing he knows, Hongjoong’s studio door opens and Hongjoong himself looks down at Yeosang on the floor. His blue hair is mussed and messy, and his mask is hanging under his mouth, tucked under his chin. He doesn’t look great; he looks tired.

Hongjoong extends a hand to him and pulls him up to his feet. Yeosang collects all the snacks and holds them in his arms, letting Hongjoong close the door after him.

“You okay?”

It’s a warranted question; Yeosang doesn’t come to Hongjoong’s studio too often. Well, ever really, especially after _that_ night. If he seeks out the company of other members instead of letting them come to him as they always do, it always leaves them questioning.

Well, Yeosang is _okay_. Sort of.

“Mhm.”

“Sorry, I’ll be quick. I have to finish something and then maybe we can get some food?”

Yeosang nods at Hongjoong’s words; before the thing, they used to hang out more often, had started spending more time by themselves over cheap meals chatting about anything, or just eating together. Yeosang had started feeling less awkward and shut-off around Hongjoong, and more able to hold a normal conversation without those weird butterflies in his chest.

So he’s glad that Hongjoong so easily suggested a meal again; maybe they’re finally starting to move on from that weird space. Thank Hongjoong for it, because Yeosang would never be able to.

Hongjoong lets Yeosang put some of the snacks in front of him on his working desk, and pulls out the blanket from over the back of his chair to give to him. Yeosang takes it with a soft smile, laying on Hongjoong’s couch.

Blanket over him and eyes on the ceiling, Yeosang lets the patter of Hongjoong’s hands on the keyboard, the clicking of his mouse, lull him into feeling less icky, more relaxed. There are patterns on the ceiling, maybe cracks, maybe water damage—something of the sort, but they make Yeosang chuckle anyway. This building…

Hongjoong swears under his breath, low, barely audible. Yeosang turns his head to Hongjoong, observing the back of his head barely peeking over the edge of the chair, framed by the mic on one side and the keyboard on the other. The low, pink-purple lights in his studio make it all so _cute._

And like so, Yeosang’s eyelids drop, eyes closing by their own accord. Yeosang would fight them any other day, knows a thousand and one ways to wake himself up if he needs to, but now… there’s no point.

When he comes back to himself, eyes snapping open, Hongjoong is exactly where he was the last time Yeosang was awake. In his chair, pattering at his keyboard.

Yeosang doesn’t feel like napping anymore, so he takes out his phone instead, sitting up and laying back on the back of the couch, purple blanket, Hongjoong’s gift from San, pooled in his lap. Randomly, he opens YouTube, his recommendations not the best. But he sees a video from a prank channel he enjoys which looks promising, and he opens it, glad that it has captions so he doesn’t have to turn the volume up, since Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be wearing headphones.

There’s no sound coming out of the computer either, so he must be writing lyrics. Strange that he’s writing them on the computer, but Yeosang doesn’t want to ask.

Noticing a minute of the video went by, he rewinds back to the start, observing the man sitting down at a table with another guy who looks down, and the two unsuspecting people next to them.

Despite himself, despite the lack of volume, the video is hilarious. Yeosang audibly cracks up at parts, stopping himself right after and laughing quietly in his mind instead, so he doesn’t bother Hongjoong.

Except when he looks up, halfway through the video, Hongjoong is staring at him instead, a small smile playing on his face.

“What are you watching?”

“This prank video. It’s hilarious.”

“Mmm,” Hongjoong suddenly gets up from the chair, opening the pack of home-run balls on the way to the couch and settling down next to Yeosang, snacks in his lap. Yeosang pauses the video and rewinds, suddenly way too aware of where Hongjoong is pressing his thigh to his, blanket half-draped over his own lap, Hongjoong's chewing audible.

And then they stop, and Hongjoong drops his head on his shoulder.

“Wanna see,” he juts his chin to the phone.

Yeosang tries to unfreeze, play the video again and put up the volume. He fumbles with his phone just a bit, before he rests his arm on his own thigh and turns it between them.

Volume up, the video is even more hilarious; Hongjoong cracks up when they play kung kung ta, and fully laughs when the dude says how much money he paid at the restaurant, throwing his head back and laying it back on Yeosang’s shoulder right after. Yeosang grins, catching Hongjoong’s expression from the corner of his eyes.

And for the whole three minutes that are left, Yeosang feels his shoulder vibrate with Hongjoong’s chuckling, the movement when he wipes tears from his eyes at a particularly funny part. The reactions of the guys next to them make the whole video, and Yeosang barely notices when it ends, Hongjoong still cracking up next to him as an afterthought.

“Thank you for that, that was hilarious.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Yeosang closes the video and locks his phone. Hongjoong still doesn’t move away.

Instead, he grabs Yeosang’s now open left hand with both of his, pulling it in his lap. Yeosang freezes.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, just pulls on Yeosang’s fingers and massages the back of his palm, turning it around to brush fingers over the center, down the lines of his palm. Yeosang’s eyes fix to the movement of his smaller hands in his own, feeling the shivers travel up his arm and down his body. Chilling, like it always seems to be around Hongjoong, except Hongjoong himself is always warm. It’s just Yeosang.

“Yeosangie,” Hongjoong finally lets go, turning around on his side to lay an elbow against the back of the couch and rest his head in it. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yeosang looks down in his lap, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if he looked up and at Hongjoong. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

Yeosang lifts a shoulder, finally looking into Hongjoong’s eyes when Hongjoong pulls at his hand again and takes it into his.

“You didn’t do anything terrible. You kissed me.”

“And then I ran away. Pretty terrible in my book,” he drops his eyes, feeling the heat spreading from his ears to the rest of his face.

“Well, I could’ve done without the running away part, but I know you were tired and you probably didn’t want it to happen like that,” Hongjoong chuckles, kind, soft. Yeosang is always shaken to his core by how Hongjoong can hold so much on his back and yet still have so much patience and kindness for them. In that Hongjoong way, hidden behind a sharp laugh or a strict remark or an exasperated draw of their names.

That’s a safe thing to think, really. Hongjoong is kind; he’s great. He’s always been great to Yeosang.

“I didn’t mind the kissing all that much though.”

Hongjoong’s words, spoken in that low, private, _hesitant_ tone, go in through one of Yeosang’s ears and leave right out of the other. That’s beyond his belief capabilities.

“I’m serious, okay? I’m not kidding,” Hongjoong pulls on his hand until Yeosang’s eyes are back on him. “I don’t mind kissing you. If you want it, that is.”

Well, that… that is something Yeosang will have to process. For a little bit. Not… not right now, that’s for sure.

“You can tell me whatever, whenever, alright?” Hongjoong smiles, and Yeosang nods with his own smile.

The ways he feels about Hongjoong… he hasn’t started to process any of them yet, really. He knows it somewhere, that he feels some sort of way about Hongjoong he’s barely felt about anyone before. It's hard not to—Hongjoong is electrifying. Magnetic, drawing Yeosang to him like a moth to a flame, circling around the blazing fire that he is.

But he also knows that those feelings need to be filtered through many things—their careers, the members, the company. And he doesn’t know how to do that quite yet.

Yeosang nods, taking Hongjoong’s hand in his just for a second. Just to feel it.

“Let’s get some food, okay?” Hongjoong smiles at him, pulling Yeosang off the couch. The lights in the studio get turned off, and Yeosang follows Hongjoong down the stairs to their building to the 7/11, staring at the back of his neon-blue hair.

Maybe someday. Maybe he'll figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the prank video they watched: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6rQ5zhmOFA. If someone wants to watch it! Thank you for reading. <3


	4. yunhwa - rude boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Seonghwa shows up in a deadly outfit, including a skirt, for one of their weekly bar hangouts, Yunho can't hold back even with all of their friends around. And when Seonghwa pushes... Yunho follows.
> 
> (requited crushing, public sex, handjobs, skirt+seonghwa is a deadly combination friends)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I have gone feral from a lovely drawing Ari did of Seonghwa in a leather lace-up skirt, which you can find [here](https://twitter.com/sanstrokegame/status/1287016182529302528?s=20) for your viewing pleasure!! So this is the result, very unedited, so excuse the mistakes... hope you enjoy it! <3

“Is Seonghwa coming tonight?” Wooyoung asks Hongjoong from the other side of their table. Yunho cringes at Wooyoung’s almost-scream.

Mostly. He also cringes at the idea that he’s going to have to see Seonghwa in a bit.

“Yeah. He texted me a while ago, said he’s on his way.” And then Hongjoong turns his head to Yunho, just the slightest bit, throwing him a glance Yunho doesn’t really catch.

“Ha,” Wooyoung laughs, clearly directed at Yunho. “Try to hold your drool in this time?”

Yunho reaches over the table to slap some sense into Wooyoung, but he regretfully dodges into Mingi, who puts an arm around his shoulder. Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at him from the protection of Mingi's arm.

This is what betrayal feels like. Mingi, his best friend, now corrupted; a _tragedy._ Yunho takes a sip of his fruity cocktail—and instantly regrets it, when it goes down the wrong airway and makes him choke an ugly cough.

Because Seonghwa just walked in. And he’s wearing a _skirt._

Oh no. _Oh nonononononono—_

Yunho hears Wooyoung’s cackle to his left like through cotton, far away and completely muffled. He has to absolutely be _kidding_ ; Yunho’s life has to be a joke for Seonghwa.

Because not only is it a leather skirt, tightly hugging his body, but a turtleneck crop top too, revealing the lines of his abs, his belly button, and an oversized jacket on top, falling to his thighs. And worst of all… worst of all, there’s a thigh harness. _A thigh harness._ Two bands of material, lace between them, held together by a small metal heart.

Yunho wants to _cry._ He doesn’t even care that he’s probably been checking Seonghwa out for a solid few seconds now, jaw dropped. Seonghwa is a _devil._

He’s a devil—he surely did this on purpose. Yunho figured telling Seonghwa about his massive, hopeless crush on him would end up with him being utterly miserable somehow, but not like _this._ He expected tears in his pillow, a gentle but ultimately heartbreaking rejection, awkwardness…

Not Seonghwa literally showing up to their weekly hangouts in sexier outfits each and every time, like he’s trying to _edge_ Yunho.

That’s what he’s doing, essentially.

And then Seonghwa _sits down_ next to Yunho in the booth. His naked thigh, the little heart from the harness press close to Yunho’s own thigh, digging into his skin. Hongjoong pushes further into the booth until he’s perpendicular to them, next to Yeosang, giving Yunho precious space to get away—but Seonghwa only scooches closer, until they’re pressing together from their hips to their knees again.

Oh this is going to be _hell._ This night is going to be shit; he’s going to come in his pants by the end of it because Seonghwa is _cruel_.

He’s _so cruel._

Yunho tries to focus, tries to take another sip of his now watered-down cocktail, but almost weeps when Seonghwa orders a whiskey. Just straight up—a whiskey on the rocks. How badass is that?

Oh my god, he’s wearing a _skirt._

Someone hits his ankle with his foot—it’s Mingi. He mouths something to Yunho, probably something along the lines of _stop being a lovestruck dumbass, you look like you just about came,_ and it would be fair. Thankfully, San and Jongho are making conversation with Seonghwa from the other side of the table—only people Yunho ever trusts in this world.

Yunho gets his bearings together slightly as the night goes on, falling into the easy conversation that usually happens during their weekly hangouts. He loves his friends more than anything, really, and he loves seeing them every Friday night.

But he doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to hold on to his sanity like this. Seonghwa hadn’t even given him an answer. It’s clear he enjoys this, seeing Yunho in shatters.

He’s cruel. So cruel.

And yet, Yunho didn’t know just _how_ cruel until, maybe three drinks in for all of them, Seonghwa finds Yunho’s left hand under the table... and puts it on his own _thigh_.

Yunho chokes on his drink. Once again. Seonghwa pats him on the back, looking like a concerned friend. Yunho _hates him._

Because while his right hand is patting Yunho on the back, his left hand presses insistently on Yunho’s on the inside of Seonghwa’s naked thigh, the leather from the skirt brushing over Yunho’s fingers. The lace harness, the metal heart, press on Yunho’s hand, and Seonghwa inches it just the slightest bit higher.

 _Oh god._ This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asks him, concerned, and Yunho nods, probably red in the face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just went down the wrong path,” he smiles, and tries not to shudder feeling the softness of Seonghwa’s skin under his hand.

Seonghwa taps his hand once. Yunho looks at him, seeing the question in his eyes. Yunho nods, takes his time doing it so Seonghwa knows he’s okay with it. At his answer, Seonghwa takes his hand away with a finger brushing the back of Yunho’s, so clearly inviting him to stay.

He also doesn’t dare do much more than squeeze his thigh and move it just the littlest bit, feeling the way his hand spans from the harness up to over the skirt. He feels the leather lacing on the side of the skirt, where the split is, and moves down, digging one finger under the top band of the harness and pulling it up.

And then he lets go; there’s no audible noise over the music and the ruckus of the bar, but Seonghwa twitches slightly under his touch. Yunho feels the satisfaction of a job well done, knowing that he can have an effect on Seonghwa the same way Seonghwa does on him, driving him absolutely insane.

He gets bolder, traces his index finger from the harness up the split of the skirt. It’s ridiculously high on his thigh, especially when he sits down, so it doesn’t take Yunho a lot to reach his hip, the band of his underwear.

 _Oh fucking hell,_ Yunho’s hand is up Seonghwa’s _skirt._ That’s not a sentence Yunho thought he’d ever think in his life and have it be _true_ , thought it would only happen in Yunho’s wildest dreams, those he wakes up from a cold sweat in and a trademark tightness to his underwear.

He doesn’t know how far he’s allowed to go though—so he doesn’t push further, only drags his hand over the inside of Seonghwa’s thigh, where it is thickest, feeling the muscles and the softness under his hand as he massages it.

But then Seonghwa’s hand touches his again, and he’s pushing Yunho’s hand up—oh god, Yunho’s hand is dragging over the bulge in Seonghwa’s underwear, the leather skirt bunching up against his wrist.

Thank fuck their table is hidden from view, because if someone looked over and saw…

But for some reason, Yunho’s thoughts can’t seem to care the littlest bit about that as Seonghwa grinds up in his touch. As Seonghwa _grinds up in Yunho’s touch._

 _Oh hell._ Oh hell, he’s touching Seonghwa, Seonghwa’s hand is pressing on his own, keeping Yunho there. And then he suddenly moves, until his lips are brushing Yunho’s ear for the slightest second. To anyone else, it probably looks like he reached over to tell Yunho something so he’s heard over the increasingly loud noise of the bar, the music getting louder, but…

“Okay?” Seonghwa asks in Yunho’s ear, low.

Yunho scrambles to nod, catching Seonghwa’s eyes for just a second before he lays back. This is okay? This is more than okay, this is great, this is the best thing that has ever happened to Yunho _in his life._

Seonghwa lays back over the table, changing the angle, getting Yunho’s hand higher on him to join into one of the conversations happening over the table. Yunho tries to look at San like he’s listening, but his hand brushes over the band of Seonghwa’s underwear…

He can’t hold back from pulling it down and reaching his hand in to tug at Seonghwa’s cock. _Oh god_ , what is he doing, he’s jerking Seonghwa off in the middle of a bar with all his friends around.

Suddenly, Seonghwa pulls back for just a second, taking off his jacket. Yunho stops, thinking he did something wrong, _oh no_ —but Seonghwa just puts his jacket over his lap and fits his hand on Yunho’s again, pushing it back into his underwear.

Oh this is _happening._ So this is happening for real now. This is…

Well, this is something. It surely is something, and Yunho absolutely _loves_ the small ways Seonghwa twitches in his touch, grinding up as Yunho does as best as he can to tug at him even through his underwear. Seonghwa presses his hand on Yunho’s, tighter and tighter.

Yunho _loses it_. He’s sure he’s lost it a long time ago, but just the knowledge that Seonghwa is letting him do this to him… he’s clearly holding back now, conversation more strained and distracted on his part, and something else grows in Yunho alongside his hard-on. Some sort of deep satisfaction, even pride, maybe. It’s a feeling not unfamiliar to him, but certainly unfamiliar in these conditions. He's always been a fool next to Seonghwa at worst, and at best a lovestruck idiot who could never reign back on the flirting; this is a change. One that he certainly enjoys.

He tugs at Seonghwa faster, tighter, the littlest bit he can, and feels when Seonghwa grabs his hand to stop him, grinding up on it instead. And then when he tenses, when he comes all over his underwear, some getting over Yunho's hand no matter how much Seonghwa tries not to. He continues to stroke Seonghwa through it, feeling the shudder passing through him that he barely hides.

Yunho freezes, holding back a groan. He made Seonghwa come—he made Seonghwa _come in his underwear_ at a table full of their friends, in a public place. He can’t help but look at Seonghwa, kind of in shock and kind of maybe entirely _too_ turned on, for maybe too long—by how Seonghwa flits his eyes to the right and catches Yunho’s on his, immediately squeezing his hand in warning.

Yunho takes his eyes away begrudgingly, trying to look at someone else instead, but he can’t focus. He can’t focus at all, not when Seonghwa twitches under his touch and Yunho finally takes his hand out of his underwear, trying as best as he can to tuck him back in.

“I have to head out,” Seonghwa suddenly says, and Yunho tries to not startle when everyone’s attention is suddenly on him, slowly taking his hand away from Seonghwa’s thigh. “Long day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Yunho quickly throws, tone way too unstable not to give anything away, voice almost breaking on the last few syllables. He couldn't care less.

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa looks at him—and his eyes don’t hold any question.

“Yeah. We’re heading the same way anyway.”

And then they leave. Yunho doesn’t know how he said goodbye, when he did. He gets up after Seonghwa, watching him wrap his jacket around his body, falling under his skirt. _He did that._ He did that, oh god.

The trip to Seonghwa’s home in the taxi is painstaking like nothing else. Yunho wants to reach over, kiss him, touch him, do whatever—it’s been too long, threads of excitement under his skin making him twitch because _he knew_ , he knew that Seonghwa liked him back, maybe, but the knowledge of it, the sheer ecstasy…

God, Seonghwa is _amazing._ He’s perfect, and Yunho is so into him he can barely hold back from bursting with it and screaming it out into the world.

And then they climb down out of the taxi at Seonghwa’s apartment building, heading towards the back entrance. The little garden is not too lit-up at night, shadowed by trees and bushes; Seonghwa fits his hand in Yunho’s and pulls him under those shadows.

They’re _alone_. They’re finally alone, and Seonghwa turns to him with a fiery expression under the hair falling on his face. He’s _so beautiful,_ smiling, looking like he's forming the right words.

“I didn’t think that’s how I’d end up telling you that I like you too.”

Yunho’s heart drops out of his chest anyway. Even if he sort of knew, even if… well, _all that_ happened, hearing it?

It’s the best moment of his life.

“I… can’t complain. At all,” Yunho whispers, voice raw.

“You’re just too hot. You know that?” Seonghwa inches closer, sliding his hands up Yunho’s arms to lay on his shoulders. “I just saw you and… I couldn’t resist.”

Yunho almost sputters, jaw dropping. “You’re talking? Have you seen yourself? I wanted to pass away when I saw you.” His hands wrap around Seonghwa’s waist, over his jacket, and he urges his heart to last for just a bit longer.

Seonghwa chuckles, sealing Yunho’s fate, and then he takes his hands away. “Well, if our first time, sort of, was in public, I’d kind of want our first kiss not to be at least. Want to come up?”

“I’d want nothing more,” Yunho nods, smiles as Seonghwa takes his hand in his and drags him into his apartment building.


	5. yunsangi - such a *****

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San asks Yunho and Mingi to try something... different on him.
> 
> (blowjobs, double mouth penetration, rough oral, D/s elements, humiliation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw// for the word wh*re being used
> 
> Word choice is also pretty heavy on the nasty so be aware; feel free to comment or DM on Twitter first if you have any questions!

San knew his time had come right when Mingi slithered into his and Yunho’s room and locked the door behind him. Suddenly, Yunho’s quiet presence on the bunk below his became less comforting and more ominous.

“Don’t tell me,” San throws from his place on the top bunk. “You wanna use my mouth.”

“Can I?” Mingi asks, somehow sheepish. How funny. San feels the stirring in his stomach; he’s so thankful for Mingi, because sometimes San can’t make that first move. Is too is in his head too. 

So he climbs down his bunk, painfully aware of Yunho’s presence on the bed below. Yunho just likes to watch usually, jerk off from his bed as San gets used by whoever wants to come that night. It makes it all so much better for San. 

Mingi is hard when San kneels in front of him and puts his hands on his sweatpants, pulling them down. His cock bobs up his stomach; he must’ve jerked off before he came to San. He takes him in a hand and takes just the tip in his mouth, teasing his tongue over the slit. 

Mingi immediately fists his hand in San’s air, pushing him down. And the thing is… San has sucked cock so many times that with people like Seonghwa or Hongjoong, moderately-sized, thicker rather than long, he’s pretty good with his gag reflex. Even Jongho San can comfortably take, and he can be _rough_. 

But Mingi’s dick is a fucking monster. And he’s painfully aware of it, is always gentle when he fucks San’s mouth, like not to hurt him; San _hates it_ , because he wants to take it as easily as he takes everyone else. He _needs to_ , he always ends unsatisfied when he sucks Mingi off because he can’t please him like he does everyone else. He’s not _good enough,_ and that’s not something San can take.

So Mingi pushes slow at the first few thrusts, bobbing San’s head up and down the slightest bit over the tip of his cock, stretching his lips. But San isn’t happy; San is the one to go too fast, lodging Mingi’s dick three quarters down his throat in one swift move. 

And he definitely _feels_ it. He feels his throat convulse around the foreign object as Mingi curses high and long above him; San lodges him deeper and feels the gagging noise come up before he can control it, muffled around Mingi’s cock. 

“San…” he alarmedly tries to pull San off, but San only dives deeper, stuffing the cock deeper down his throat and trying to breathe. He just needs to _breathe_ , tries to even as tears gather in the corner of his eyes and he feels like throwing up.

God, that would be _nasty;_ Mingi would probably never let San anywhere _near_ his cock again.

So he pulls off, fascinated at the phantom feeling Mingi’s cock left in his throat. It feels so uncomfortable. San _loves it._

“San, I… I don’t wanna hurt you, be careful,” Mingi whispers, but he’s rock fucking hard in San’s hand. All men do is lie.

“Will you let me try it out on you?”

“Try out what?”

“Taking you all the way.”

“Are… are you sure? I… nobody’s ever done that, I don’t think…”

“Let him,” Yunho’s voice rings out from behind him. “He’s such a whore, he can take it.”

And well, San recognizes an opportunity when he sees one. Taking Mingi’s dick back in his mouth, he throws his eyes up to him. _You heard him,_ he wants to say.

“Fine, just… don’t go too far.” 

No such thing. San takes Mingi’s cock deep again, encouraged by Mingi’s hand on the back of his head, until that gagging feeling is back and he makes the ugliest noise, wrecked and filthy, around Mingi’s cock. He must make such a picture; he’s sure he is, especially if no one’s ever done this to Mingi, mouth open wide and throat fluttering around him. 

But it quickly gets better. San already knows how to breathe to take something in deep; hours of cockwarming Seonghwa have taught him that much. Before soon, he’s comfortably sliding Mingi all the way down his throat, feels it reach almost to his damn stomach he’s that deep, and even if tears are falling from his eyes, he doesn’t feel that uncomfortable anymore. Enough to stop making noises, for Mingi’s desperate moans to overshadow his.

Until he’s wrenched all the way back by his hair, spit drooling down his chin, and he looks up at Yunho instead, taking his place above him. His expression… lip bitten in his mouth, eyes lidded like he’s examining San… he feels the stirring in his stomach, the blood pooling down to his crotch. 

Wordlessly, Yunho takes himself out of his pants with the other hand that’s not pulling _tight_ on San’s hair, and slips his cock past San’s lips. 

Slow at first. San takes it, looking up at him. 

Before Yunho pushes him all the way down one second after, _quick_ , and San gags around his cock, completely not ready and entirely too much. And then he _doesn’t stop._ Hand wrenched tight in his hair, he stuffs himself deeper down San’s throat each and every time, and it feels _so bad_ , San’s throat nothing but abused by the heavy weight of Yunho’s cock. And the noises match—ugly and loud, San wrenching his nails in Yunho’s thighs, over his sweatpants, as Yunho pulls him flush against his crotch, San’s nose smushed against his skin. 

He almost feels like throwing up again, he feels so filthy and disgusting with every noise Yunho punches out of him, and is so relieved when Yunho finally pulls him away and San looks at him with blurry eyes. 

“Mingi, come here,” Yunho orders, and San sees Mingi stand next to Yunho, his heavy cock bobbing in front of San’s face. San automatically grips it with a hand, but has to let go when Yunho pushes him down Mingi’s cock again, burying it halfway in. “Are you ready?” he asks then, and San nods frantically, trembling with anticipation. 

And finally, _finally_ Yunho slips the head of his cock past San’s mouth, alongside Mingi’s, stretching him open so far San almost feels the corners of his mouth rip open, his jaw hinging down so hard it gives him a headache right away. It feels _great. Fuck,_ he feels so good, stuffed full of cock, everything he’s ever wanted. And when Yunho pulls him deeper and he feels Mingi’s cock inch at his throat, he screams and it’s _muffled_ by the weight of both of them inside him.

“Yunho, is this…” Mingi’s frantic voice asks, but Yunho just keeps going until Mingi’s dick is hitting the back of his throat and Yunho’s pushing at the roof of his mouth. 

He’s crying, he’s sure he is, feels the fat droplets on his cheeks as he’s fucked dumb, gagging around two cocks in his mouth. Everything he’s _always wanted,_ to make them feel good, take as much as he can, until he’s bursting at the seams with it…

Yunho pulls out, and shoves him so hard down Mingi’s cock San gags again, and then pulls him off and shoves himself down San’s throat. And then again, and again, and again, until the two of them are sharing San like a fleshlight, alternating at every thrust, so that San isn’t left a second without a thick cock down his throat, where he _needs it._ Yunho shoves him down hard on every thrust, punching ugly noises out of San as he doesn’t have a second to get used to anything, as he goes from one cock to the other, nothing but a toy to please. 

He _loves it,_ he loves it so much he doesn’t know how to say it except clawing at their thighs, wet eyes begging for more…

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come,” Mingi warns, and Yunho immediately pulls San off Mingi, shoving himself deep and thrusting in as hard as he can.

“Hold it for a second,” Yunho groans, fucking San now just for himself, using his mouth quick and hard like he just wants to _come._ He’s looking down at San, lip bitten tight between his teeth, eyes dark. “Fuck, you’re so loose. How do you expect me to come, huh?” 

A fresh wave of tears spills down San’s eyes, trying to tighten his throat, be good for Yunho because he just wants to _please_ but he can’t, he can’t do more than this…

Yunho pulls him off and San almost cringes into himself because _no,_ he wants him _back,_ but Yunho just shoves him on Mingi’s cock as deep as he can go, and then slides in again himself, stretching San _raw._ “You need two cocks in you to feel tight again, you know?”

There’s no warning before suddenly there is come shooting down his throat, so uncomfortable San almost pulls away but he _can’t_ because Yunho’s still holding on to his hair even if his hand is trembling. There’s more come in his mouth too when Mingi accidentally pulls away, slipping down his chin from the gap in his mouth.

When Yunho lets go just the slightest San pulls away, swallowing first and coughing after, crumbling down on the floor. Come drips down his chin, what he couldn’t swallow, and suddenly his hair’s pulled up again and he’s being risen to his knees, face level with Yunho’s still hard cock.

“I think you have more to take, don’t you?” Yunho looks down at him, and San nods because _he wants_ , yes, even if his throat feels rubbed and raw and _so uncomfortable._ There are sobs wrecking his body, shivers traveling down his spine as Yunho shoves him deeper and deeper on him. 

There’s another hand in his hair, smoothing it down even when Yunho holds the back of his neck and it makes San cry even harder because it’s _comforting_ , it feels so nice to be used like this. So nice, so much so that when Mingi’s palm rubs over his clothed cock San doesn’t take a second longer to come, moans desperately making him tighten around Yunho’s cock.

Suddenly, there’s more come down his throat and San swallows around it mechanically this time, his sobs calming down. He feels… weightless, easy, out of his body as he’s scooped up in a pair of arms, another patting at his hair. Sounds are muffled; there’s little coming from outside and more from the inside, a hand holding his as he’s pushed down on the bed. 

His eyes don’t close, but he slowly comes back to himself, and sees only Yunho next to him, holding San close to his chest.

“Can you speak?” his soft voice filters through San’s ear, so different from before. 

San opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out when he tries to speak is a raw gargle, so he shuts his mouth, coughs once and tries again. 

“Yes?” Sort of. Probably no more than yes, really; he sounds wrecked and the word is a jumble, but it feels _so good_ in him. “Thank you. For doing that to me,” he tells Yunho, feels the hand in his hair as he cuddles in and rides the ecstasy for as long as he can.


	6. san(hwa) - precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seonghwa wins San a plushie, and San feels quite a few ways about it.
> 
> (solo!san, plushie grinding, crushing, tad bit of angst, comfort)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks to [yoongoogles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoongoogles/pseuds/yoongoogles) for putting plushie San into my head... because whew. <3

This is _wrong_ on so many levels. Stinking with _wrongwrongwrong_ , but it’s not like any of these thoughts have ever been able to stop San, stop the treacherous thrum in his heart every single time his hyung comes just a bit too close, or ruffles San’s hair, or puts a comforting hand on his hip during practice.

He tries, because he respects his hyung immensely, more than anything, and it just feels _wrong_ to think all these things about his groupmate, one of the people he’s closest to, one of the people he’s living out his seemingly ephemeral, barely believable dream with. He wouldn’t ruin it for anything between them, and San doesn’t want to be _weird._

But sometimes… sometimes, he is just a little bit too tired. 

Especially as they filmed that variety show today in the amusement park, and Seonghwa, with incredibly precise aim, popped 7 balloons with 7 arrows, and won a _huge_ bear plushie—that he turned around and put right in San’s arms. 

San was horrified to think the cameras had caught on to his reaction, to the open mouth and wide eyes and the squeaking _thank you_ he whispered in Seonghwa’s direction. And the way the brown, fluffy bear didn’t leave his side the entire day, not even when he was packed with Wooyoung in the back of their car and Wooyoung had poked his cheek and called him whipped before they were filmed heading home.

And now… huge, brown bear held tight to his chest, leg thrown around it… Yunho’s recording with Hongjoong, he knows. He’s alone. 

He’s… okay to maybe let it out a tad little bit, tighten his leg around the bear and press in just a little further. It means a lot to him. That Seonghwa immediately gave this to him, that his eyes had looked for San in the crowd and passed over Yeosang and Wooyoung and Hongjoong, his favorites, and they lit up when they saw him, before he stepped right to San and handed it to him.

He lets out a huge breath, burying his face in the brown bear’s ear, biting it between his teeth. It’s warm and fluffy and soft, so soft, and Seonghwa-hyung won it and gave it right to San…

The bear is soft, but it’s also firm when San grinds up the littlest bit. _Oh god he shouldn’t,_ Seonghwa-hyung gave him this bear, but there’s a stirring in his stomach and that _good_ , good feeling in his crotch and…

He moves again, his clothed groin pressing against the bear’s stomach, and _oh god_ he’s hard already. Maybe he’s been hard for a long time and didn’t even notice, too busy replaying that exact moment and Seonghwa’s look in his head over and over again, picking it for something he wanted to see. But he is now, and he’s so hard it hurts. 

It wouldn’t be… the first time he’s done this. Gosh, it wouldn’t be even the hundredth probably, too many of his plushies… well, having seen things they should have never seen.

It just feels too good to stop, when he’s worked up and the soft material of the plushies feels _so good_ against him. Not hard enough to hurt, but also firm enough to be able to tease him as he grinds up on them, mouth buried in their fur to muffle his whines. 

God, he _really_ shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t, but this bear’s just _so_ fluffy and _so_ soft, he tells himself, as his hand pushes the elastic of his shorts below his cock, down to rest on the middle of his thighs. The blanket is already making him sweaty, but the thought of Yunho, anyone, walking in and seeing him like this, with the plushie Seonghwa won him between his legs? _No._

It feels too good, the long fur tickling his thighs, his stomach, pressing comfortably against his aching cock. He’s always so sensitive when he does it, doesn’t need more than this, building up a slow, but deep rhythm, using that flexibility in his hips to get himself worked up and whining. 

He wonders if it would be different in any other way. Wooyoung always teases him for being sensitive when he pinches him or when he brushes a hand over him, easily startled; so maybe he’s just sensitive in all the possible ways. If someone got their hands on him, how would he be?

Not that anyone ever has. Anybody but himself, anyway, and he doesn’t like getting himself off with his hands that much. He feels almost too aware of what he’s doing to himself and it becomes less fun, knowing what’s going to follow. He likes it more when it’s… something else that he can press on, grind on, get off on. But somebody else’s hands on him… 

That would be nice. San could just lay back and let them take care of him. He could—he almost _can_ see it now, cock brushing between the long fibers of the plushie, almost disconnected from that feeling in favor of whatever’s in his brain. His mind takes over to fill in the gaps that he doesn’t—until there’s the ghost feeling of hands on his waist, lips on his neck. 

San’s too good with things like these. He’s learned it from the stage, from where he has to materialize the thoughts in his head to a reality that needs to feel true even if it’s not—otherwise, it wouldn’t show on his face. So… he can see it. He can _feel_ it, and that’s the worst; he can feel those hands, those touches, sure and confident on him. 

There’s only _one_ person who touches him like this. 

Seonghwa. Only person—maybe except Wooyoung, but not even him—who matches San’s teasing without fail. Only one person who would grab his hips just so, and pull him into him, sneak a hand over his waist to tug at him with a breathy moan over his ear, a soft kiss on his cheek.

San moans—long and deep, buried in the plushie, but the grip of it on him is tighter now because he presses in tighter, imagining instead that it’s Seonghwa’s hair tickling his stomach. It’s… surprisingly easy to, when he closes his eyes, to imagine Seonghwa’s warmth around him, hand tugging slowly at him and lips teasing over his cock. 

Oh _god_ —he would feel guilty because this is his hyung, but it feels _so_ good right now, grinding on the plushie and thinking of all the things Seonghwa would do to him. He is so good with his hands, with his lips... with that sinful tongue of his when he teases it out of his mouth so often and San’s train of thought flatlines. That tongue _on_ him, _in_ him, in his mouth or over his chest, lower… even lower, maybe, like San’s seen in those videos he should’ve never watched because he _shouldn’t._

The feeling builds in his stomach, the delicious tension right before he lets go and slips into that pleasure, when he can finally come and let go. And he does, mouth parted in the shape of Seonghwa’s name whispered in the fur of the plushie—

 _Fuck,_ he pulls back in one second straight like the plushie burns and holds his cock, spurts of come landing on his hand and on his shirt. _Fuck fuck_ , he almost forgot, he almost came on the damn plushie, _fuck—_ but it doesn’t ruin it, not by far, San quickly tugging at his cock until he’s spent and everything lands on his hand and on his shirt instead. Moaning in his elbow, he tries to bury it like before, and prays nobody heard. He’s just a little too loud, maybe, but…

It doesn’t ruin it, but it leaves San feeling on edge for sure, feeling so dumb. Right after he comes the thoughts come flooding in, and shame burns so vividly on his body, red and hot. 

He can’t believe he did this. He can’t believe _he got off_ to thoughts of his hyung, grinding on the plushie he gave him—it’s just so stupid, and it makes San feel like shit. 

But he uses the tissues on the edge of his bed to clean himself up anyway, and uses some more wet ones to wipe his precome from the plushie. He can’t lose it now, before he gets rid of the evidence. He’s going to have to wash it now, unfortunately, because he’s an addict that can’t hold back—that gets off to the thoughts of _his hyung touching him._

Tears well in his eyes, suddenly so overwhelming—before two knocks ring out on the door and San startles.

 _“Sannie?”_ Seonghwa’s voice rings out, and San swears under his breath. He jumps down from his bed, quickly opening his window. 

“A second! I’m changing,” he yells out, but it sounds raspy and weird, and _dammit San._ Can you at least act normal? 

He quickly takes his soiled shirt and shorts off, throwing them in his laundry basket. It feels gross, next time he needs to remember to prepare a tissue before so he doesn’t make a mess of himself again. He slaps some sanitizer on his hands and tells Seonghwa to come in. 

He does, freshly showered and soft in his pyjamas, and gray hair falling down into his eyes. And San… he feels _so small._

It always feels like Seonghwa knows. Like he knows all the nasty, forbidden thoughts that go on in San’s head, and San just waits to be hated for it.

“Sannie, are you feeling okay? You came straight to your room, and then you didn’t answer my texts,” Seonghwa closes the door, coming closer to San. “You look hot. Do you have a fever?” 

San shakes his head, but Seonghwa puts a hand on his forehead anyway; San wants to say _no, I just got off to the thought of you under a blanket, that’s why I’m hotter than hell right now_ … but obviously doesn’t.

He just starts crying. He doesn’t even know why, except all of a sudden there’s tears falling from his eyes, hot on his cheeks. Seonghwa wraps San in his arms and tuts, petting the crown of his hair. This isn’t San. This isn’t like San at all.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, head buried in Seonghwa’s shoulder. It’s just maybe too much—it’s finally become too much for San to take. Was quite the time.

“Don’t be sorry, San-ah. I know,” Seonghwa coos, low and private, in San’s ear. What does he know? “I know.”

If only he knew. If only—

“I’ll win you another plushie, okay?”


	7. yungi - need you like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingi has ways to get his comfort. 
> 
> (soft and fluffy yungi, cockwarming, blowjobs)

“Mingi, I’m… I’m playing,” Yunho covers the microphone on his headset, looking intently down at him as Mingi falls to his knees between his spread thighs. 

“That’s fine. Just stay quiet,” Mingi answers him, pulling down his sweatpants at the same time as Yunho lifts his ass from the couch to help him. “I just want your cock in my mouth. Won’t do too much.”

And he gets it, at Yunho’s nod. Yunho’s soft when Mingi licks over his head, tucking him into his mouth deeper and deeper with every inch, pressing his tongue to the bottom of his mouth. 

Maybe, out of all the things they do, he loves this feeling the most. 

Loves feeling his mouth full, the weight of Yunho’s half-hard cock as Mingi waits, just sits there and lets the warmth of his mouth do the work. Yunho’s a shower and a grower both; fortunately for Mingi, who  _ loves _ feeling him harden in his mouth as he just occasionally sucks, hands resting on the couch to the side of Yunho’s thighs.

Sometimes he can’t really take it all when Yunho grows fully hard, spit dribbling down the corner of his mouth as he opens it wider to take a gulp of air around him. Whenever he feels that, Yunho exhales a hard breath, resting a hand on Mingi’s hair for just the briefest second, the contrast of the cold air and the warmth of Mingi’s mouth a lot for him when he’s that sensitive.

But that’s what he likes about it. When he can’t take it all, he pulls back and breathes and dives back in, one hand holding Yunho’s hard cock to his lips as he sinks deeper and deeper, as much as he can. He doesn’t bob his head; just pushes, one centimeter more every time, until he can take Yunho all the way with ease, nose buried in the hair at the base and pressing against his skin.

He stays. A while. Yunho flutters his hands over Mingi’s hair when he can, just the smallest sign of reassurance that Yunho feels him, and loves him, and appreciates him even when Mingi gets as needy as this and can’t wait. Yunho is a stabilizer, a grounding force for him in so many ways besides this one, that Mingi can now see a look in his eyes or feel Yunho’s hand on his skin for the barest second and he already feels calmer and more in control. 

He can tell when Yunho stops playing. When the controller drops silently to his side, followed by his headset, and Yunho now breathes out a low moan, one hand holding lightly on Mingi’s hair and one thumbing over his cheek, where it swells with the weight of Yunho inside him. 

That’s when Mingi pulls back and tucks Yunho’s cock into his cheek, so Yunho’s thumb can press over the bulge, feeling how Mingi takes him in to slide along the wet walls of his mouth. When Mingi sucks, Yunho’s palm flattens against his cheek, his noises breathy as Mingi takes him down his throat with practiced ease. 

He doesn’t have blowjob lips for nothing, it’s what he likes to tell himself. He’s good enough with his tongue that he doesn’t even have to take Yunho out of his throat to make him come with a breathy groan after so much time being turned on, tucking into himself and holding the sides of Mingi’s head. Not pushing, just holding. 

“Happy?” Yunho asks Mingi as he pulls off, swallowing every single drop and getting up to tuck himself into Yunho’s lap, sharing a messy kiss and the taste of Yunho between them before Mingi even thinks to answer. He loves that the most, maybe, about having sex with Yunho--how he’ll have no hesitancy to give Mingi what he wants, even when it’s not something he’d usually expect. How he even  _ likes _ it, hands tightening on Mingi’s waist when Mingi slides his tongue into his mouth.

“The happiest. Get me off?”


	8. sanjoong - hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San strikes whenever he is asked. 
> 
> tw // blood, murder (not of a main character), emotionless human weapon!San, highkey kind of soft

_ Careful, kitten. _

What even is there to be careful for? It’s not like anyone can really hurt San. 

He’s full now. The pain in his scalp keeps him on edge, and the snake coils inside of him. Ready to strike for the command he has to follow. Always.

Always without any thought. He just has to say the words, and San does whatever he asks.

And because he knows how to give, he knows how to take.

“Beg.”

“Please.”

“Ah, you stupid toy. Good for nothing. Why’d he send you to me?”

San takes. 

Until his job is done, and the man collapses on the chair. San gets up. Pain blooms down his back.

Whoosh. One... two... three.

The chair thuds. The man falls. His black blades are made to cut through everything as easy as breathing—they were a gift.

Hongjoong had put them in his hands, wrapped San’s fingers around their hilts one by one. Molded to his body, they’re weightless as San hits once, twice, three more times and the blood sprays down his front, pools down the hardwood floor.

It’s almost black, San thinks. As black as the blades. As black as his own blood is, pouring from the last scratches the man could handle giving. Maybe they’re one and the same; San tilts his head.

_ Don’t let them see you. Do you understand me, San? Don’t let anyone see you. _

San jumps from the window. A tree catches him on the way, branches digging into his waist and thighs as he makes his way down and runs into the dark forest.

_ What’s your name? _

_ San. _

_ San. San-ah. Sannie. Ahaha. You and I, we’re one and the same. You know? _

“Good boy.”

San preens, blood tracing sharp lines down his neck. Hongjoong reaches out to pat at his hair, and the gesture drips tingles through his throat and to his stomach.

He feels. Hongjoong has blue hair now.

“I don’t like seeing blood on you. You know that, kitten? Do you know that?”

By the way Hongjoong drags fingers across the red streaks down his body, San doesn’t know. Does he? Doesn’t he?

San doesn’t really know Hongjoong.

“Oh,  kitten,”  Hongjoong breathes out in San’s neck as San gets told to touch wherever he wants.

Wherever he… wants? Hesitant hands touch Hongjoong’s waist.

“Not there, darling. Lower.”

Lower. Hongjoong’s hips.

“Lower.”

Lower. San touches Hongjoong where he wants to be touched, and gets Hongjoong’s sighs in his hair as a reward.

“Harder, kitten.  Harder.”

Harder. San fucks Hongjoong like Hongjoong taught him to, until Hongjoong trembles in his arms and falls on their pillows.

_ I’ll teach you how to let go. You’ll see. _

San lets go when Hongjoong asks him to. After, he cleans them up, and when Hongjoong makes grabby hands, he now knows this is what Hongjoong does when he wants him to come to bed.

Their bed.

Hongjoong has fallen in love with his given weapon. San knows, because the harder Hongjoong falls, the more he understands. The more he feels. 

It’s not a two-way relationship. He’ll take as long as Hongjoong has what to give. When he doesn’t....

When he doesn’t. Hm.

Maybe Hongjoong will know by then who San’s last command has to be.


	9. hohong - more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong is insatiable. Yunho has perfected some of the ways in which he can help him with that.
> 
> (idol!au, pwp, edging, fingering, crying but the good kind, whipped!yunho but that's just canon)

“Do you want more?”

Hongjoong’s silence speaks for itself. The warmth of his open mouth on Yunho’s neck, the wetness pressing on his skin, Hongjoong’s hands fisted so tight in his shirt that it’s about to rip tell quite a different story. Yunho moves his hand; Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, but his almost unnoticeable jump as Yunho presses deeper into him makes Yunho grin in Hongjoong’s hair.

“You have to speak if you want more. You know that, right, Hongjoongie-hyung?” he teases, his whispering in Hongjoong’s ear going almost unheard.

Almost, if it wasn’t by how Hongjoong’s mouth opens, and he takes a deep breath still pressed up against the side of Yunho’s neck.

In his lap, Hongjoong’s thighs press tightly on Yunho’s. Yunho feels them tremble sometimes, when he crooks his fingers just right and presses deeper, just once, before he pulls them out again. But Hongjoong doesn’t come to him to give in, that much Yunho knows. He comes to him so Yunho makes him give it up, whatever tangled-up thoughts play inside his brain at that point he just can’t hold back anymore. 

He comes to him because Yunho has patience, and won’t give in too quickly. In Hongjoong’s words. Because Yunho, with his big self and even bigger smiles, makes Hongjoong feel…

Well, Hongjoong was never able to get that word out. But Yunho knows, that sometimes he wants to be cared for, and just _take_.

So that’s what Yunho is here for—to give. Sit Hongjoong in his lap, slip two, three fingers inside him and have Hongjoong’s cock press against his shirt-covered stomach until he feels the wetness on his neck. Stay still, move slowly, change speed or go deeper barely a couple times every minute, just to catch Hongjoong by surprise.

When Hongjoong lifts his head, Yunho catches his lips in his and tastes the salt on Hongjoong’s lips, the tears on his cheeks. He kisses them away without any word, and lets Hongjoong get back to his place pressing into his neck, sometimes biting, sometimes kissing, mostly just breathing against his skin.

Edging. That’s what he found out it’s called, after what Hongjoong described it to him as when he _asked_ —shyly, hiding his face, _ah, just forget it Yunho-ya._

Hongjoong’s hard cock pressing against him leaves wet spots on Yunho’s shirt as he gasps—just once, and Yunho stops again, resumes his agonizingly slow pace. When his wrist cramps and he has to take a break, Hongjoong lets off just the _smallest_ whine—barely there, catching Yunho’s lips in his in another kiss and insistently pressing, sliding his tongue over Yunho’s lip and in his mouth. Hongjoong can never not push, that’s not who he is, but Yunho is here to be the patient one, slowing down his pace as he adds more lube and slides one, and then quickly another finger in him again.

He kind of wants to eat Hongjoong out right now. Wonders if Hongjoong would let him, if he’d actually let go, the kind of sounds he would make on their dorm room couch knowing the others can be back any time. Or that the neighbors could hear. Would he bite his fist, one of the throw pillows Seonghwa bought for the couch? Or would he just let go? He wants to ask, but Hongjoong kisses him again, and through the insistent pace, Yunho finds himself slightly quickening his own without even realizing it. He can only tell by how Hongjoong’s breath quickens, and when he does, he slows down again.

Hongjoong almost whines, and Yunho finds a moan leave his own mouth at the vibration against his skin.

He needs to keep himself together. For Hongjoong. But as the threads of pleasure and mischief run up his veins, he finds out he can’t quite do that; he abruptly quickens his pace, and the sound Hongjoong makes is _so good_ , twitching in his hold and arching his back to get _more._

 _“Fuck,_ Yunho—fuck, harder…”

He moans in Hongjoong’s hair when Hongjoong accidentally brushes against his cock, going faster and faster, crooking his fingers just right. Hongjoong melts in his lap, digging his teeth in Yunho’s collarbone, thighs trembling against Yunho’s—

And he stops.

“Yunho! F—”

“You didn’t ask me,” he whispers, muffled by Hongjoong’s temple. Hongjoong swears under his breath, trying to arch his back to get Yunho’s fingers deeper, but Yunho just pulls out again, sliding his hand over Hongjoong’s naked cheeks, teasing over his rim.

“I swear, if you don’t—“

“If I don’t what,” Yunho grins, expecting. Hongjoong is always so fun to play with.

“If you don’t do it properly, I’m leaving.”

Yunho almost laughs. “I think you need me more right now, hyungie.”

“Hmph,” Hongjoong snorts in defiance, and kisses Yunho again. Okay, maybe he doesn’t, he comes to Yunho because he wants to, so… Yunho takes mercy on him, and slides his fingers into Hongjoong once more.

He can tell now, that Hongjoong is close to losing his patience. Yunho just needs to find that sweet spot, the right time to break Hongjoong.

Hongjoong kisses him harder, returning to bury his face at the base of Yunho’s neck, in his shirt, biting at the material. He must be so close—they’ve been at it for quite a while now, and Yunho knows just how sensitive Hongjoong can get. So he goes harder—and stops more often, and feels Hongjoong pull at his shirt. Yunho loves this moment, when they both kind of get lost in it, and it becomes less about Hongjoong letting go, and more about Hongjoong getting into it, insistently grinding on Yunho.

He stops again, and this time, he hears it. A soft whisper in Hongjoong’s voice, imprinted on his skin.

_“Please…”_

Usually, he’d keep going. But tonight, there’s just something in the moment that makes Yunho _let go._

Fucking his fingers up into Hongjoong, he hears the mewls and whines getting louder, more so than often, when Hongjoong gives in and lets go, moves up to kiss Yunho just as deeply and intensely as Yunho fucks up into him. Buried moans on Yunho’s tongue, Hongjoong trembles and twitches once again in his lap, and Yunho goes faster and faster, harder and harder, until Hongjoong isn’t really able to kiss him anymore and just breathes desperate moans into his mouth.

_“Fuck.”_

“Is it good?”

“Yeah, keep going, keep, just Yunho… _there, right there—“_ Hongjoong mumbles, almost incoherent, arching up into Yunho. The tip of his cock presses up against Yunho’s belly button, and Yunho wraps his free hand around Hongjoong to tug him closer to his body.

He doesn’t know why, he’d usually help Hongjoong get off by this point, tug at him until Hongjoong would melt all over him, but now… he just wants to hold him closer.

Hongjoong whines a small noise as his cock gets pressed up between their stomachs, probably from the oversensitivity. And Yunho… gets an idea.

“Hongjoong-hyung… do you think you can come like this?” he whispers in Hongjoong’s ear, slowing down again.

“What? I don’t…” Hongjoong’s surprised voice filters through him, together with just a touch of desperation in his voice.

“It would be so hot. Seeing you come just from my fingers. Can you do that? Can you try for me?” Yunho asks, filtering in just a little of that voice everyone tells him they love. Yunho sometimes feels like he’s branding it like a misfitting piece of clothing, but if it gets Hongjoong to gasp like he just did, then maybe it has some worth.

“I…” And he doesn’t say anything else, which Yunho takes as enough encouragement to add one more finger, and fuck them up into Hongjoong just like he likes—fast and quick. Hongjoong’s desperate moans ring out in the room, and Yunho says fuck it, to whoever might come in, to whoever might hear, and lets Hongjoong bite marks into his skin to bury some of them. He doesn’t prod Hongjoong to let go anymore, just lives through the way he twitches in his lap, arching up and pressing against Yunho for _more, harder—_

Yunho gives it to him, as much as he can, because Hongjoong letting go for him is his favorite thing in the world. His broken moan as he paints their chests with cum, the way he curls into himself and then reaches out to press into Yunho, closer, as close as he can, reaching up to kiss him and barely being able to do so through the moans and shivers wrecking his body. Yunho holds him close through his orgasm, as close as he can, that desperation he can’t quite describe to feel Hongjoong close to him making his way through him all the way to where the tips of his fingers bury in Hongjoong’s hair as they kiss.

With Hongjoong, it never feels like this is the end. It always feels like a beginning, as Hongjoong barely has time to come down from his orgasm before he pulls away.

“We can go shower, I’m—“

But Yunho’s words go ignored. “No. You’re fucking me right now.”

How can he protest that? Yunho finds himself moaning as Hongjoong undoes the string on his sweatpants and pulls them down along with his boxers, as much as he can to free Yunho’s cock. The lube from next to them quickly gets uncapped and when Hongjoong’s slick hand touches him for the first time tonight, Yunho looks into Hongjoong’s eyes, doesn’t know what the hell he finds there, but he finds himself on the edge of losing it so quickly that it steals his breath from his chest.

Hongjoong tugs at him just a couple of times, and then repositions the both of them so Yunho’s cock touches his rim and he slides down.

 _Fuck._ That one moment… that feeling of Hongjoong taking him in, eyes lidded and ecstasy so clear on his face… Yunho bites his lip into his mouth and begs his body to not give up on him. His hands on Hongjoong’s hips hold maybe too tight, but Hongjoong gets it.

He knows he does, because when he’s taken Yunho all the way to the base, Hongjoong looks at him, puts his hands on Yunho’s shoulder, and looks at him with so much in his eyes that Yunho knows he also won’t last long.

He’s still hard when Yunho gets his hand on him, their eye contact not breaking in the slightest as Hongjoong comes closer, their foreheads and lips centimeters from touching each other. Hongjoong rolls his hips in Yunho’s lap, and Yunho thinks he’s ascended when Hongjoong lets out this small moan and bites his lip white in between his teeth.

“Hyung…”

“Mmm?” Hongjoong asks, his eyes meeting Yunho’s once again, his hips rolling those sinful circles in his lap.

Yunho answers his question by catching Hongjoong’s lips in his, and holding him closer. One hand sneaks in between them to tug at Hongjoong, hearing the moans getting louder.

Hongjoong coming again is a surprise—both for him and for Hongjoong, it seems, because the broken gasp he lets out is loud and heavy. “Oh fuck, _oh fuck—_ Yunho, _fuck…”_

And Yunho doesn’t know what it is, but the sound of his name in that voice, knowing that he’s the one to bring Hongjoong to this point, the tightening of Hongjoong’s hands around his neck… he follows Hongjoong right after, coming deep inside him with desperate moans of Hongjoong’s name. It’s like this, together, that Hongjoong kisses him again, just to be closer, and Yunho’s hands come up to envelop his entire back as they come down from it.

“I didn’t expect to come, I’m sorry—“

“Why are you sorry?” Yunho asks, slightly unintelligible because he’s just come and he doesn’t want Hongjoong to have regrets right now.

“I’m just… damn, I made a mess of you,” he says, but he hasn’t stopped rolling his hips yet, and Yunho’s moans are becoming more and more broken because he’s starting to _feel that._

Hongjoong is insatiable. A fiend, and Yunho thinks he’s doing it on purpose.

Whiplash. That’s what it’s always like with Hongjoong, because Yunho looks at him, at the lopsided half-smile half-smirk on his face, and thinks _fuck._

I’ve fallen _hard._

He barely remembers the last hour, gets lost in Hongjoong’s eyes as he finally stops, and then slumps in Yunho’s chest.

“Carry me to the shower.”

Well, Yunho doesn’t think his knees are fully functioning right now, but he can try. There’s also the…

“The couch… Oops.”

Well, that.

But it doesn’t matter. Because in the shower, after Yunho teases another almost-dry orgasm out of Hongjoong and Hongjoong saves them from almost breaking their neck by holding on to the shower post, he knows it’s worth anything when he sees the look in Hongjoong’s eyes. Yunho spends a surprising amount of time being uncertain when it comes to Hongjoong, but this... this he has some confidence in. It really is worth anything. 

Even Seonghwa and Wooyoung noticing and yelling at them for an hour afterward.


	10. seongjoong - 10,000 hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seonghwa comes to visit Hongjoong at his studio. 
> 
> (soft, fluffy, and loving, just seongjoong having a seongjoong moment)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just looking through my notes and I found this drabble I wrote back when seongjoong did that cute 10,000 hours cover so I thought I’d share some loving moments because I always angst them lmao. Hope you enjoy it! ❤️

The first knock at the door, Hongjoong barely hears. No one else seems to have, by how they keep chattering away. Hongjoong doesn’t want to bother them so he doesn’t say anything. 

The second one, Eden gets up for. Hongjoong would offer, but he’s comfortable laying on the armchair where he is, and Buddy is chatting away with him about the choice of synths on his next track. 

His attention gets blown when Seonghwa walks in behind Eden, in black sweater paws and tight jeans hugging his legs. 

“Hello,” he greets, bowing deep, way too polite, and Hongjoong can’t take his eyes off of him.

Their eyes meet—Seonghwa’s are low, lidded, hands fiddling with each other’s in front of his hoodie pocket. It’s Hongjoong’s—the black, too big one he keeps in his closet for days he doesn’t feel like showing much. 

Hongjoong puts a hand on the chair’s arm. Seonghwa takes one, two steps towards Hongjoong; if he sits in the armchair… 

“Wait just a bit. We’ll practice after, right?” Hongjoong tilts up to tell him as he passes. 

Seonghwa doesn’t. He sits on the floor next to Hongjoong’s outstreched leg, his other under him in the chair. He makes himself at home easily, resting back on Hongjoong’s chair, grey hair fluffy and unkempt, sort of, from where Hongjoong can only see the crown of his head.

He holds back from reaching out to wrap a hair in it—tugs it tighter into himself instead, crossing his arms. Buddy stops talking—Hongjoong lifts his eyes to his and sees the blank expression; there’s something in it, a metaphorical raised eyebrow. 

Seonghwa never comes here. Sometimes it feels to Hongjoong like he makes it a point not to, and Hongjoong often wonders why. The other members bother him in his studio often, but never Seonghwa. Seonghwa just waits home for Hongjoong to sometimes not even come, and sends texts at 3 AM asking where he is. 

In his studio, writing. 

Hongjoong himself is tired of saying that—and also tired of receiving no response afterwards. 

Seonghwa settles in quietly. He doesn’t talk. Hongjoong paints his attention wide and lets Seonghwa stay as a little blip on the edge while he’s talked to. 

“Hongjoong needs an electric guitar on that track,” one of Eden’s friends chips in, sort of already drunk. He comes around here often nowadays, and feels the need to comment on their shit without any prompting. “There wasn’t ever any good love song without an electric guitar, right?”

Seonghwa accidentally hits an elbow to his calf. Subtly, discreetly; Hongjoong stares down at the crown of his hair, and sees him stay still. Unmoving.

Buddy distracts him again, with music talk that barely doesn’t go over  his own head, with how distracted and tired he is. He can’t even imagine Seonghwa, who has stayed quiet for the past half an hour while Hongjoong does this and that, and listens to people that matter a lot to him.

Usually he’d pay the requisite attention. 

Now? Huh. Seonghwa’s quiet. Way too quiet, way too… out of his place. He’s both too cold and too warm for this place both, too dignified and too cozy, too… much. 

“Sorry, hyungs, we gotta work on something,” he announces, and watches as Seonghwa stands up. A polite bow to everyone; Hongjoong leads Seonghwa to his studio, holding back from laying a hand on his back. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Seonghwa shakes his head, not even looking at Hongjoong. Lays his small bag down next to Hongjoong’s keyboard, and pulls the folding chair from the wall, sitting down next to him. “Let’s practice?”

They do. Hours on end, and yet Hongjoong could never get tired of Seonghwa’s voice. His lilting cadence on the pauses of the song, his soft  r s as the instrumental plays behind.

_ Everything, I wanna know it all _

Hongjoong looks at Seonghwa looking down at his phone, over the English lyrics—the background keeps going. Seonghwa missed his cue, his lips mouthing the words to himself.

_ When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'? _

Seonghwa closes his eyes, and Hongjoong sees the lyrics play over his lips in a barely audible whisper. 

_ Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours _

“Hongjoong?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hongjoong nods. He missed his cue as well. 

Seonghwa’s eyes are curious, inquiring. Hongjoong still doesn’t know them, even after so long of being in the same group. He tries, and yet it always seems to not be enough.

_ And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try _

_ If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life _

3 AM, the clock on his desk shows. It’s late—too late. Late enough that Hongjoong’s thoughts blur together in a mish-mash of feelings and...

Seonghwa gets braver. One look head on into Hongjoong’s eyes, he holds them— _I’m gonna love you, I’m gonna love you._

Hongjoong gets braver too. “Is it for me? The song?”

Seonghwa huffs with a little laugh twisting the corner of his lips. Straight and at Hongjoong, finger reaching out to tug on Hongjoong’s jaw. Hesitantly, Hongjoong draws his eyes up to look into Seonghwa’s, meet that look of settled, loving confidence head-on. 

Full lips on his breathe out a little surprised sound out of Hongjoong; knuckle hooking over Hongjoong’s chin, Seonghwa pulls away with the sound of air lost between them. 

“You know I already love you.” 

“Do you?” Hongjoong huffs, gets close to Seonghwa’s lips to speak in tiny whispers. “I feel like you hate me sometimes.”

“I mean… I wish you’d come home more often. And you’d clean up after yourself. And you’d stop chastizing Wooyoung and San for things. And you’d learn how to cook without burning my pots. And—“

Hongjoong interrupts with a kiss. “And?”

“And you’d kiss me again.” 

Hongjoong can do that much. Hooking a hand around the side of Seonghwa’s neck, fingers brushing his hair. He kisses Seonghwa breathless, moves his lips over his until they’re both parts of one thing and nothing less.

He pulls away. “I love you.”

“I know,” Seonghwa smirks, a little cocky. “You tell it to me every day.”

Hongjoong doesn’t. Or at least, not in words. 

“I enjoyed the ddeokbokki yesterday.”

But maybe in other ways that matter.


	11. sansang - focus on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang calls San when he needs him most.
> 
> (phone sex, slight d/s dynamics, mentions of breathplay)

_“Are you in bed?”_

“If I wasn’t in bed at 1 AM, I definitely wouldn’t be calling you,” Yeosang counters, aiming for sarcastic but ending up with a whisper-breathy tone that surely tells San exactly why Yeosang is calling at 12 PM his time.

_“Awh baby, don’t be impolite. Daddy’s done everything he could to answer your call.”_

Yeosang bursts into laughter.

 _“Okay, no, that was too much, sorry. Tried.”_ San’s tone breaks into a laugh of his own, turning the mood lighter.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mind it that much,” Yeosang chuckles an afterthought, settling down deeper into his comfortable sheets.

_“Maybe something to try later?”_

“Maybe,” he nods to himself before he realizes San won’t be able to see it, and nods again. “Hmm.”

_“Are you comfortable?”_

“Mhm.”

_“Good.”_

At the sound of San’s deeper tone, Yeosang travels a hand down his bare stomach, slowly sneaking it under the waistband of his sleep shorts, probably just like San would if he was here. His own touch doesn’t raise goosebumps on his skin or butterflies in his stomach like San’s does, but just hearing San’s breathing in his headphones helps.

_“Tell me what you’re doing.”_

“I’m just…”

_“Don’t be shy.”_

“I’m… touching myself,” Yeosang whispers like a secret, taking himself in his hand and shuddering at the feeling. If San was here, he would gently tug at him, teasing him by dragging a finger down him.

But Yeosang doesn’t have that patience.

_“Good. Listen closely, okay?”_

“Okay.”

_“Take your hand out.”_

“What?”

_“Don’t touch yourself. Is your shirt off?”_

“Yeah,” Yeosang says.

_“Good. Turn around. On your stomach.”_

Yeosang follows San’s instruction, turning on his other side, painfully aware of the drag of the sheets over his nipples, his bare skin. Even through his shorts, the pressure on his cock between his stomach and the bed is making him already jumpy with pleasure.

He wonders if San can hear the rustling of his sheets, the way Yeosang groans just the slightest bit when he rearranges himself, the friction way too good.

_“You’re gonna kill me.”_

So maybe he can.

“Are you in the bathroom?”

 _“Yeah. There’s nobody here,”_ San says, already a little choked up. Yeosang preens a little at how he can clearly get San so strung up in just a matter of minutes without doing much.

“Good.”

_“Gosh. I really wanna be home right now.”_

“What would you do if you were?”

 _“I’d kiss you,”_ San says without a second of a pause, an ounce of hesitation. _“Like you are right now. Press up against your back, wrap a hand around your throat and turn your head around to kiss you.”_

Yeosang’s hand reaches out instinctually to the base of his throat, imagining it’s San’s head instead, tugging at him. If he tightens his hand, he can feel his airflow cut the littlest bit, feels the shadow pain the press of his fingers leaves on collarbones. His back arches instinctively, pressing his cock down on the bed.

_“That’s my favorite position. Seeing you sprawled under me, cheek pressed on the pillow, not knowing if you want to press back on me or grind on the bed. You always look so good like that when you take my cock.”_

Yeosang chokes on a moan. _Oh god._

 _“I mean, you look pretty in any position. You always look the prettiest,”_ San’s quiet, deep tone, his praise, filters through Yeosang’s ears, reaching somewhere he doesn’t know how to describe. His hips roll of their own accord to the rhythm of San’s breaths, to the slightest pause in his words. _“You always drive me crazy. I wish you could see yourself, when you grab the headboard and your hands wrap all tight around it because you don’t want to make too much noise or come too fast. How the muscles in your back tense when you hold back, under my hand when I press you on the mattress to fuck you harder like you’re begging to be fucked.”_

A sudden moan rips out of Yeosang, louder than he even expected, freezing up the movement of his hips.

_“That’s right. Let me hear you.”_

“Fuck, San-ah…”

 _“Or maybe instead of giving it to you hard, maybe I’d take it easier. Press into you nice and slow, so you can feel every inch. You like that, don’t you? You always moan the loudest when I just fuck you deep, legs on my shoulders and bending you in half.”_ Yeosang can almost feel it, San pressing up into him as slow as he wants when he wants to tease Yeosang, really drive him insane. _“Do you? Answer me.”_

“Y—yeah.”

 _“Good,”_ San chokes on his word, driving a moan out of Yeosang too as the tip of his cock catches on the waistband of his shorts. Gosh, he’s so embarassingly close already, just from the sound of San’s voice whispering these things in his ears. _“I can’t wait to be back. Be able to touch you again.”_

“Me too,” Yeosang nods into the pillow, halfway muffled by the fabric pressing against his cheek. “I want to touch you too.”

_“Mmm, you do? How about I give you a nice present when I come back and let you fuck me first instead? Would you like that?”_

“Fuck,” Yeosang moans just at the thought. They don’t often switch, but when they do, seeing San on top of him feels like a religious experience every single time.

 _“I guess you would,”_ San chuckles. _“I can’t wait to feel you in me again. Maybe I’ll just tie you up to the headboard and then just ride you until I’m done. You would make sure I’m nice and satisfied, I know you would, you’re so good to me, so good at making me feel good…”_ San trails off, letting Yeosang desperately rut against the mattress just at the thought of San above him like that, and Yeosang being unable to do anything but _take it._ _“Such a good—“_

San pauses, and Yeosang hears the muffled sound of a door closing in the distance. Suddenly, all that’s coming through the line is San’s breathing, deep and labored, and Yeosang can’t help but press down harder, little whines filtering through the pillow as his shorts slip under and his cock presses directly on the bed, trapped between his stomach and the fabric of the bed, and it feels _so good…\_

“Sannie,” he begs, San’s deep breath traveling through his ears all the way to his crotch. He wants to feel it directly on him, wants San to put a hand over his mouth and quiet him as he fucks Yeosang good enough so he screams, like just he can. “Sannie, _please…”_

Two more seconds, and again, the sound of a door and a hard exhale.

_“You’re so impatient. When did you become so demanding, Yeosang-ah?”_

“Just cause you’re not here,” Yeosang whispers, holding back so he doesn’t come. Just a little more.

_“Aww, do you miss me this much? I’ll be sure to take good care of you when I come back, okay? We can take a day just for ourselves, and do whatever.”_

That sounds _so good_ to Yeosang that he frantically nods, again not realizing San can’t see him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d… like that,” Yeosang chokes out through a moan.

_“Good. I’ll make sure you’ll feel me in you for days.”_

_Fuck._ If only that wasn’t true. Yeosang knows from personal experience that a San who puts his mind to something is a San that will surely do it. Yeosang can already see that steadfast determination in his eyes, that pointed look down at Yeosang as San snaps his hips up into him with relentless pace, staring him down, grip tight…

“San-ah, I’m so close,” he whispers, “I’m so close,” his hips cant up onto the bed, his legs shaking as he struggles to hold back and can’t…

 _“Already? Awh, I thought I’d get to play a little more with you,”_ the slight teasing tone in San’s voice draws a whine out of Yeosang. He can’t… _“Come, baby.”_

At San’s prompting, he finally lets go, lets the pleasure wash over him. Hands gripping the sheets _tight,_ his whole body trembles as he makes a mess of himself, twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure as San’s hard breathing, small encouragements and praises filtering through. Yeosang’s vision almost blacks when he lifts his head and rolls on his back, away from the wet spot he just made.

 _“You always sound so delicious,”_ San teases him, and just his voice is enough to make a shiver pass through Yeosang.

“Thanks,” he earnestly tells San, recovering for a second before he can fully talk.

_“Oh, you think we’re done? Oh no, baby. Why don’t you pull our your black toy and help me come too, hmm?”_

“I hate you,” Yeosang announces, but his hand reaches to his right, where his favorite toy and lube already were. “Are you in your room now?”

_“Yeah. And if you did, would your toy have already been on the bed?”_

“How did you…” Yeosang’s eyes bulge out of his head, his head already looking at the door.

_“I just know you. I know you call me all of a sudden when you can’t get enough.”_

Well, he guesses San does know him too well. Smiling, Yeosang rearranges himself on the bed.

“My turn to talk?”

 _“Please go ahead,”_ San breathes out, the sound of his rustling sheets audible through his earphones, and Yeosang chuckles.


	12. jonggi - pour up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongho has his favorite way to start his day with Mingi.
> 
> (somnophilia, multiple orgasms, slight come play, ruined orgasm, i promise this is quite soft)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The somnophilia is previously discussed/consented to and it's something they engage in regularly but the discussion is not explicitly brought up, so please beware and read with caution/don't read if that's something that bothers you!

Jongho pulls the corner of Mingi’s blanket, the barely-there light filtering through the curtain enough to show him the way. It’s not even morning—maybe something at the edges of it, trickling into the day, but Jongho woke up feeling _needy_ , and there’s more than enough time before they have to be up for him to act on that need.

Mingi doesn’t stir—he sleeps like a log nowadays, which works out perfectly fine for Jongho. The lube trickling down the back of his thighs isn’t the most comfortable, and he already knows it’s going to stain Mingi’s sheets, but that’s fine.

It’s not the first time.

Settling with his back to Mingi’s chest, Jongho pulls the blanket around him, gently resting his head on Mingi’s outstretched arm.

For a moment, he lets himself just be. The curve of Mingi’s body into itself has become a familiar feeling for Jongho, his body curling in to fit Mingi’s knees in the back of his and his lower back on his stomach a muscle memory. Mingi’s warmth reaches through Jongho’s shirt, on his temple where he’s pressed onto Mingi’s arm, steady and comforting.

Jongho feels that little pull in his stomach again, the reason why he’s come to Mingi. For more than the sex; for the bubble that seems to form around them when Mingi touches him, impenetrable by any force of the outside world, reduced to nothing in Jongho’s consciousness.

Only Mingi could do this to him. Matter so much to him he obliterated everything else, and Jongho couldn’t pretend not to realize it anymore.

Unconsciously, he finds himself grinding down into Mingi, the back of his sleep shorts sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He takes a second to quietly wiggle out from them, throwing them from under the blanket. When he settles back down, he waits a second to make sure Mingi hasn’t woken up before reaching behind him to pull him out from his own sleep shorts.

Mingi’s soft in his hand, and Jongho tugs at him once, twice, before scooting back to fit himself over Mingi’s cock. Even soft, Mingi fits easily between his cheeks, teasingly slipping over him as Jongho grinds himself down in the smallest movements, prolonging the moment for himself.

He likes this—the foreplay, the fact that Mingi both is and isn’t part of it, and this is something Jongho does just for himself.

Sort of. Because Mingi also starts unconsciously shifting when Jongho grinds down on him. When the tip of his cock catches over his hole, Jongho stifles a moan, reaching behind him to slip two fingers inside himself almost dry, then quickly three, using the lube left from when he fingered himself in the shower, to stretch himself open again so he can take Mingi. The friction feels good, too good to let go, so he picks up the bottle of lube he brought and only drizzles a bit down his fingers to reach behind him and spread over the tip of Mingi’s still mostly-soft cock.

Grabbing the base, Jongho spreads himself open with his other hand so he can slip the head of Mingi’s cock inside him.

 _Gosh_ is Mingi big, even if soft. Jongho clenches around him, feeling Mingi stretching his rim, the delicious burn betraying a hard breath out of his chest. He pushes back further, taking Mingi just a few inches more before he moves his hips, letting him slip out all the way and pushing back again and again until his hand meets his ass and he lets go, taking Mingi all the way to the base.

He feels _so full_ already, filled to the brim with Mingi and he doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to move from where Mingi’s pressed up on him.

So he doesn’t—just grinds down in these small movements, feeling Mingi’s cock fill up inside him, grow harder as he keeps going, and _that…_ the thought that Mingi is sleeping and yet Jongho’s managing to do this to him makes him just the slightest bit dizzy.

_Desperate._

But it’s fine, because it’s Mingi, a Mingi who’s not even awake, but even if he was…

Even if he was.

Jongho drops his head back, the top of Mingi’s hair tickling the back of his neck as he quickens up the pace, grinding down faster, Mingi’s lips falling on his nape and he doesn’t want to hold back, doesn’t stifle the desperate breaths falling from—

“Jesus _fuck.”_

A hand is suddenly under his shirt, pressing up into his stomach and laying him flush against Mingi, shoving his cock as deep inside Jongho as he can go.

Jongho’s moan is so loud he’s sure he’s woken someone up.

“Fuck, baby, _quiet,”_ Mingi rumbles in his ear, all sleep-laden and rough, and well, if he wants to shut Jongho up, that’s surely _not_ the way to do it, because Jongho lets out another moan as Mingi places one _way too deep_ thrust inside him.

_“Mingi…”_

“I got you, I got you,” Mingi whispers in his ear again, but his own voice is strained, fingers digging in the skin of Jongho’s stomach. “Gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t wake up earlier.”

“Tried my best,” Jongho whispers in return, moaning as Mingi places a wet kiss against his nape, his tongue peeking out to draw a teasing pattern on his skin. It _burns_ where Mingi touches him, Jongho’s nerve endings sparking fire when Mingi thrusts deep inside him again.

It almost feels like…

Mingi kisses the side of his neck, tugging the lobe of his ear under his lip, Jongho’s earring clicking against his teeth and it _hurts_ and Jongho moans way too loud again, stifling his sounds with the pillow as Mingi tongues a path down his neck again and up, up… “I love you. I love you _so much.”_

Jongho’s definitely way too close already. _Way_ too close.

“Mingi, _please.”_

Mingi’s hand brushes over his stomach, and Jongho thinks he’s going to _finally_ touch him, his own hard cock neglected for so long, but Mingi _doesn’t._ He places a hand at the base of his stomach, tantalizingly close to where Jongho needs him most but he _doesn’t,_ he just grinds Jongho harder down on him, whispering the most dangerous combination of filth and love in his ear, pressed up against Jongho head to toe…

The next second, the coil inside Jongho snaps, his orgasm coming from deep inside him sending waves of pleasure that leave him _shivering_.

And yet it doesn’t…

“Did you just come untouched? Oh my god, Jongho, baby…”

It doesn’t feel _done,_ the shivers passing through Jongho, and when he looks down, sees the come dribbling down his cock, he gets it.

When Mingi picks up his pace, Jongho twitches, almost slipping out of Mingi’s grip. “That’s, that’s a lot, Mingi, I’m—“

“Can you take it?” Mingi whispers. Jongho doesn’t take a second to nod, and when Mingi thrusts into him…

Yeah, Jongho’s definitely going to need the pillow.

Biting into it, he keeps the noises at bay as Mingi alternates between deep grinds and punchy little thrusts, not separating for the slightest second, still pressed up on him.

“Jongho, baby,” Mingi’s whisper rings in his ear and Jongho clenches around him, drawing a desperate moan out of Mingi. “I think I’m gonna…”

“It’s fine, come, you can come,” Jongho whispers back in a frenzy as Mingi’s hand tightens desperately around him, enveloping his whole stomach and pressing, holding Jongho to him as his desperate breaths match little _uh uhs_ out of Jongho with every thrust.

And suddenly, Mingi pauses, Jongho’s own hand finding his and interlocking their fingers as Mingi comes _deep_ inside him.

Jongho won’t admit he’s in love with the feeling. He absolutely won’t, not to Mingi, not out loud, but he thinks Mingi knows anyway by how he’ll make sure to ask before he picks up a condom even when it’s inconvenient to clean up, how Jongho was so fucked out after two rounds once that he just _couldn’t,_ and fucked Mingi’s come back into himself with his own two fingers as he stared into Mingi’s eyes, widened in shock at the sight before him.

So yes, maybe Jongho has something for _that_ primal act of possessiveness, moaning low in his chest at the feeling of Mingi picking up his thrusts again, the noises…

The _noises._ Jongho certainly didn’t come here to get his brains fucked out at 5 AM in the morning, thought it would end up slower and romantic, but by the strong, punched out thrusts Mingi keeps drilling into him, sticky and lubed up by his come… he’s there and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest.

A stray tear slips from his eyes, burying itself into the pillow as Mingi gets his hand on his over-sensitive cock, leaving Jongho twitching in his grip as the pleasure obliterates all his senses, his eyes shut tight so he can keep his sanity.

“Come for me, baby.”

Jongho _does._ Again, but this time it _burns_ , ripping out a scream from Jongho he bites into the pillow, wanting to get away and never be let go of at the same time, _fuck_ is Mingi good at this, good at…

He pulls his head back from the pillow, twisting his head uncomfortably to catch Mingi’s lips in his, morning breath be damned, as Mingi tightly squeezes the last of his come from his cock and slides a thumb over his tip to leave Jongho a shuddering mess.

 _Too much,_ he wants to whisper, the twitches of his body sending searing pleasure through him not stopping, but Mingi’s tongue is so warm alongside his own and what is too much, really?

They kiss for much, much longer, until Jongho’s fire has dulled to red-hot embers under his skin and Mingi’s hand against his stomach doesn’t want to make him jump anymore, but is just warm. Like Mingi inside him, way too warm, way too comfortable as he softens, and Jongho kind of… doesn’t want to let go.

His fingers interlock with Mingi’s on his stomach, the crick in his neck making itself felt from the awkward position, but Mingi bites his lip and yeah…

Maybe they can stay like this for a little bit more.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have an idea or something short you'd like to see, feel free to drop it in my CC or my DMs on Twitter (both @bbysvts) or as a comment, I'll try my best to start doing requests again if it's shorter stuff, for inspiration and distraction from longer WIPs! I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a comment if you'd like, they're fuel for my soul. <3


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